So this is the final chapter :D though there will be an epilogue too, which FYI will be M rated, so... you've been warned.

i wanted to basically write a story i would want to read. And i'm glad so many of you liked it too, your reviews were incredible and really did inspire me to write more. (And to the LOVELY people who asked about my health thank you sincerely, i am now healed *chuffed*). But now it's time to bow out while it's still believable... or as believable as it can be.


Well. That had been embarrassing.

This wasn't a romantic Hollywood movie moment. Not that she wanted it to be. Okay well maybe a little. But she couldn't expect it to be, not when the other half of the story involved Sherlock Holmes. He wasn't the traditional Ryan Gosling-boy-next-door-handsome-devotee type, nor was she the Rachel McAdams-confident-stunning-free spirit type. This wasn't The Notebook.

It wasn't raining. Nor was it sunny. It was a dark, grey, freezing London night. She could vaguely hear a man arguing with a bouncer at the bar opposite, using the type of language that would have made her mother wash her mouth out with soap, had she been brave enough to say it. Traffic was roaring. Hardly picturesque.

She was shy Molly. She didn't want an audience to one of the most important moments of her life. She wanted a private moment. A moment like no other, and yet completely ordinary.

A moment that was the definition of Sherlock.

She'd known he'd follow her out. He would have understood. Because he knew her.

She turned around, finding him there, behind her, waiting silently.

As if she needed any more definitive proof.

'Molly-'

'You've had your turn' she said lightly, a smile on her face.

And that was when he knew.

As if he would have allowed it to end any other way.

And that was the moment he could see his future and her future set in stone. Previously the thought would have terrified him. This time he found himself revelling in the certainty.

Either that or she was trying to let him down gently and he was getting the wrong end of the stick.

He doubted it.

'Molly?'

Oh you cannot be serious, thought Sherlock in disbelief. He turned to Nick, who had somehow not gotten the message he was unwanted. Time to nip this in the bud. He opened his mouth to unleash a verbal frenzy on him, only to be interrupted.

'Nick, I think you should leave. I am really sorry' Molly spoke sombrely, her smile now gone. Clearly to ease the blow. For Nick. Obviously.

To his credit, Nick didn't look angry. At first he looked hurt, his mouth assuming an 'O' shape, but he said nothing. He just gave a humourless smile, and walked back inside. Judging from his stance, and the trajectory of his gaze, probably to drink. No amateur dramatics. How refreshing.

The final problem. Solved.

She was now beaming at him. He beamed back just as brightly at her.

'Just to double check, you're serious right?' she asked again, her confident face contrasting cutely with her restrained voice. He continued to smile.

'Deadly' he replied. If possible she beamed brighter. At least she did for the split second he could see it, because suddenly, she was there, arms wrapped around his neck, lips pressed to his. This time he didn't hesitate or flounder. He kissed her back. First tentatively; this was after all his third kiss. Yet within seconds the tempo had increased. His once lifeless arms slowly encircled around Molly's waist, the fingertips dragging across her skin. Her skin flushed warm. She liked that. He made a mental note to remember that. Her own fingertips were in his hair, wrapping themselves in his curls, pulling him impossibly closer. He felt a strange, foreign stirring. He knew enough of biology to know what that was.

Embarrassed, he pulled away, realising how much he needed to breathe. And they're they were. Outside an inexpensive but impressive restaurant, people photographing them with their phones, arms wrapped around each other. And they were happy. In a way neither had been happy before.

Refusing to let go of Molly, Sherlock finally his spoke, his voice breathless, his eyes bright. He finally seemed aware of the faces pressed up in the surrounding windows,watching them.

'You'd think that we were animals in a zoo' he said oddly conversational. Molly just smiled, and laid her head in his chest.

'If you're a bird, I'm a bird' she said, almost sleepily.

Oh God.

'What?' asked Sherlock, thoroughly perplexed.

'O..oh nothing' she hurried as she blushed, thankful he couldn't see her face. He tensed just a little, scaring her for one mad moment, thinking he'd changed his mind, come to his senses. And then he relaxed. And let out a low chuckle.

Never in a million years would he ever get bored of Molly Hooper.